Two-hundred and Three: Trust

It was a blue-eyed day: paper cut looks
took root in candy-floss fingers. I was
lost in someone else’s history. To laugh
I just shook half-truths from a humid
heart. Happiness is an art, and I am
a master; I can smile faster than a bullet.
Test it. Take my smile for a ride. I pretend
to forget certain black pearl words. They
are always hard because they are falling
on soft ears, the wrong ears, not your ears.
You never heard. Not on any coloured day.
You just followed the curve of my cheek
and stopped when you got caught in an
angle, leaving nothing but lemon trees,
dirty underwear, unsucked lollipops.
The dust of your memory makes me
choke. Fine, leave me, go ahead…
but you could have left some trust.


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I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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